


Queen and Her Knight

by DaniJayNel



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: F/F, Knight AU, Queen Historia, Violence, historia kicks ass, knight ymir
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-02-07 01:06:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12830046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaniJayNel/pseuds/DaniJayNel
Summary: By ascending to the throne of Eldia, Historia Reiss has with it a massive responsibility. So when House Tybur, King William, threatens the peace of her people, her kingdom, she has no choice but to stand up, and fight.Ymir, her Queen's guard captain, wants to fight in her place. But Historia is stubborn, and she is strong. Ymir has no choice but to trust in her Queen, and hope that the woman she loves is victorious.





	Queen and Her Knight

**Author's Note:**

> When I saw the amazing Queen and Her Knight fanart of YumiKuri by lesly-oh on tumblr I was like, bitch I gotta fic this. So I did.

“That salute means nothing if you’re dead.”

Historia opened her eyes slowly. She had been on her way to her bedchamber and in passing her guard, paused to press her closed fist to her heart. The hallway was cold enough that she could feel it seeping up through her sandals, up her legs and into her bones. Her thin gown did nothing to keep the warmth on her skin. Ymir was at her back. “I have a responsibility to this kingdom,” she responded firmly. She turned her head and saw Ymir glaring over her shoulder. “Even if it demands my death.”

Ymir twisted around and grabbed hold of her shoulders, forcing her to turn so that they were face to face. “This is your _life,_ ” Ymir hissed brokenly. “I am your captain, Your Majesty. I cannot let you do this.”

Historia lifted a hand and touched the scar at Ymir’s left eye. Ymir flinched at her touch, but then she relaxed and leaned into it. “He gave you these,” she stated, voice dropping low with venom. “He tried to take you from me. I will not forgive that. He is a terrible man, and he needs to be punished for what he has done.”

Ymir’s throat bobbed as she swallowed. Her anger seemed to melt away. Her hands dropped to Historia’s hips, and then she hesitantly pulled her forward until Historia met her halfway and they embraced. Despite the hard, bulky armour, Ymir was still somehow warm. She smelt of sweat and steel, but her natural scent was mixed in there, and it made Historia feel a rush of emotion as it always did.

“Why must you always go where I can’t follow?”

Historia buried her nose against the warm skin of Ymir’s neck. Wisps of her choppy brown hair tickled Historia’s cheek. “I never ask you to follow me, Ymir.”

“But you know I will.” A heartbeat. “I always will, Historia.” Her name, said softly, with such reverence, made her suck in a small measured breath. It was only in moments like these that Ymir ever used her name, or touched her.

Historia pulled away and caressed Ymir’s jaw with her fingertips. “Spend the night with me,” she whispered. “Please.” _Before tomorrow comes, before my battle, before I might die._

Ymir seemed to read her mind, see the words passing behind her eyelids. Her lips pressed firmly together, but she nodded slightly and Historia turned, Ymir’s hand in her own, tugging her along until they reached her bedchamber. Two guards were stationed to either side of the huge wooden double doors, but a simple nod from Historia had them averting their eyes, bowing their heads in compliance and marching down the hall.

Not many besides those that lived and worked in the castle knew that Historia, Queen of Eldia, took to bed her Queen’s guard captain, and often. While it wasn’t an entirely strange thing for a Queen to do, no one certainly expected it of the new Queen. But Historia didn’t care. It was never just sex for her, or power or relief. It was… love. It was affirmation, intimacy, softness.

The doors slid shut behind them and the clank of Ymir’s armour falling to the stone beneath their feet followed them to Historia’s massive bed. When they were bare and heated, they tangled limbs and hands and lips, breaths but mere gasps, heartbeats fluttering to a song only the two of them could hear. They touched and tasted and felt, the fear and the elation of all of it turning their movements into a frenzy. Ymir was never rough, especially since she was considerably larger in size and muscle—though Historia would always argue that she wasn’t fragile nor ever in need of extra care. But being gentle was for Ymir’s true benefit. Being the captain of the entire Queen’s guard was a huge responsibility, and as such Ymir often closed herself of so as to appear stronger than she was.

Historia respected her. She looked up to her in so many ways. And when Ymir was inside of her, around her, atop her, Historia felt like every little falling piece in her life was suddenly back in place. She felt content, at home. Peace.

When their ardour reached its finality, they lay crumbled together in a heap of slicked flesh and misty breaths. Even though it was cold, they did not feel it. Ymir was the first to speak, always the first.

“What is expected of me?”

Her voice in the sudden silence almost felt like a slap. Historia flinched at the sound, but she smoothed her expression and spoke with more certainty than she felt.

“To remain on the side-line of the arena. To watch me as I fight for my kingdom. The people of Eldia need me, need this. If we cannot defeat him, then we are all doomed.”

Ymir fell silent and remained so for an unbearably long time. This wasn’t the sort of silence that Historia normally craved when she was naked in Ymir’s arms. This was fraught and brooding. But she didn’t speak again, even though Historia held her breath. She merely pressed a kiss to Historia’s temple, trailed a fingertip along her side, and then they fell asleep.

XxX

Ymir woke alone in bed, horrified to find that she had overslept and Historia had already left. The sheets were rumpled at her waist and she sat up in alarm, cursing. The room still smelt of Historia, so she mustn’t have left all that long ago. But still, Ymir had a responsibility to the Queen, which was not to doze happily in her bed after a night of love making. Ymir would prefer nothing more than to simply remain in bed to bask, but she would need Historia to be there.

Where the fuck had Historia gone?

She threw the sheets aside and hurried to slip her armour back on. She wished she could spare a moment to bathe, wash Historia’s scent off of her body in case… or maybe she shouldn’t. Maybe in a moment, her scent would be all that remained.

 _Cease such thoughts, idiot,_ Ymir scolded herself. _Get yourself under control._

She passed by two guards stationed at the courtyard entrance, and so correctly assumed Historia was within. They gave her knowing looks, but none of judgement. If anything, Ymir saw a bit of pity there. They knew she slept with the Queen. How many people goddamn knew?

“Where is the Queen?” she barked at one of them, impatient and irritated.

“Training, Captain,” the one on the left said. She was shorter than Ymir, but stern looking with coal eyes and a firmly set jaw. Her jet-black hair was tied back this time. “Do you wish for us to inform her that you are here?”

“That’s fine, I’ll go there myself.” She spared them a nod and then trudged forward.

The courtyard was massive, with clean stone floors and rows of bushes along the edges. In the centre sat a large statue of the first Reiss Queen, kneeling down with boulders weighing down on her shoulders. It was the colour of light stone, but Ymir could just imagine the rosy pale skin and golden blonde hair. Just behind the statue was Historia, grunting and hissing in the most unbecoming ways. She was suited up in her royal armour, with the Founder gripped firmly in her small yet strong hands. The blade was small, almost pathetic looking, but it was so sharp it could cut into the earth like butter. When Historia had first ascended to the throne, a civil war had broken out, started by her uncle due to his anger at his own daughter not becoming the Queen. Ymir had witnessed Historia slice a man clean in half with the mere flick of her wrist.

Not only was the Founder terrifying, but so was Historia. Even with a fountain of blood dripping from her face and clothes, the steely determination in her eyes had never changed. There was no horror, no shock, and no revulsion. Historia had seen death before. Ymir even suspected that she had killed before. Rod Reiss was most fit to parent a future reigning royal. He had properly trained her for the throne.

Historia twirled and swivelled, using her small size to her own advantage as her momentum pulled and pushed her through sharp turns. She knew very well that her size would be to her disadvantage, so she trained her hardest to turn it into an advantage.

Ymir stood in the shadow of the statue, watching in awe. Historia was no stay at castle Queen. She would bloody her hands just as much as her captain could. Emotion welled up inside of her, filling her up with want and need and fear. She shot forward then, skilfully avoiding a swipe that would have sliced her face in two, and grabbed Historia’s wrist. Founder clattered loudly to the floor. Historia didn’t seem surprised. If anything, Ymir had the suspicion that she had known Ymir had approached.

Ymir’s chest was heaving. She pulled Historia against her. “Don’t do it,” she begged quietly, a small measure of vulnerability bleeding into her voice. “Please.”

Historia’s lips pulled up in a subtle smirk. “Is my captain disobeying orders?”

Ymir swallowed. “I don’t fucking care.” She knew she was becoming hysterical. The two guards at the edge of the courtyard inched closer, sending worried glances. They trusted her, but they had heard the panic in her voice. As most knew, love drove women to madness. “Let me be your champion. Let me fight in your place.”

As expected, Historia shook her head and pulled away. She seemed less angered than Ymir thought she would be. “You know I can’t do that, my love.”

Ymir’s heart gave a painful thud. “Historia,” she whispered. “Please.”

Historia sighed. She reached out and took Ymir’s hand. They wore gloves, but Ymir could still feel the warmth of her. “Don’t put me in a position where I need to choose between what I want, and what I must do.”

“What do you want?”

Historia frowned. “To send an assassin. To end this before I need to fight. Not to spare myself, but to spare you. I don’t fear death, Ymir.” She stepped closer, lifted her hand to cup Ymir’s cheek.

“I don’t either,” Ymir interjected.

“But you fear mine.”

“Of course I fear yours.” She was growing angry.

“You love me.”

“I do!”

A pause. “I love you too.”

Any fight slid from Ymir’s bones. The breath she’d taken to shoot back another argument bled out from between her lips. Her eyes had gone comically wide. In the time of their secret, passionate affair, Historia had never said those three powerful, binding words. Ymir had always thought herself beyond them, not in need of them. But having them pass by the Queen’s lips and into her heart, Ymir knew she needed them like she needed air.

“Which is why,” Historia continued. Her touch disappeared and she dropped down onto her knee, Ymir’s hand now clutched in both of hers. “I need to ask.” Her eyes were fierce, consuming. Ymir drowned in them. Her heart was beating wildly in her chest, thumping and thudding against her ribs. “Will you be my wife, Ymir?”

Ymir’s entire body went hot—shock, disbelief, desire, and love. She swallowed harshly and stared down at Historia in confusion. “What?” she blurted out stupidly.

Historia rolled her eyes. “Become my Queen, sweetheart. I love you. Today might be my last day, and I’d regret not having you wish to marry me.”

Ymir dropped down onto her own knees so that they were somewhat level—Historia was still entirely too short. “Are you serious?”

Historia nodded. A soft, sure smile pulled at her lips. “I’ve taken no other lover, Ymir. I’ve never wanted to. It’s always been you.” The way she said it, with such assurance and command, made Ymir feel like she would simply float up into the heavens to give God a high-five. She masked her emotions as much as she could and kept her expression dutifully intense, but neutral.

“You have just proposed to a commoner, Your Majesty.”

Historia huffed. “Ymir, I’ve done more to you than just propose. I don’t care about your bloodline. I want _you_ , not your heritage.”

Ymir knew this. Deep down, she always had. “You seriously want me?”

“Must I beg for it?” Historia teased.

Ymir stared at her. This tiny, young woman with entirely too much on her small shoulders, looked as though she could fight the sun right then and there, and walk away victorious. She was most serious about this, as much as she was about fighting personally for her kingdom. Historia could very well choose a champion or two, but she had deferred to fight herself. Many thought it was an impulsive decision borne from youth and pride. Ymir knew better. Historia was strong—stronger than people thought. She would not do something this risky without believing in the merits afterwards. There were none from her death.

No longer caring who saw what, Ymir surged forward and kissed her. It was their first intimate contact outside of Historia’s room, and it made Ymir’s blood sing with desire. When they pulled apart Ymir chuckled, running a gloved finger over Historia’s pale cheek.

“Of course I’ll marry you,” she answered. “But you’ll need to pick a new captain, then.”

Historia shook her head. “We can discuss that after the fight.” They stood together, smiles becoming tight, hands clasping hard. “You’ll really marry me?”

“Without hesitation. I love you, Historia Reiss. So powerfully that I would jump into that arena for you without a second thought.”

Historia’s smile was beautiful. “I know,” she said. “I know.”

XxX

The arena was packed tight with people of all societal backgrounds, the poor and the rich, the commoners and the nobles. The entire kingdom of Eldia was entitled to watch this fight, to watch their Queen. All of them sat together, but the royal houses of the Kingdom of Marley had claimed the upper podium for themselves, their faces pulled in tight disgust whenever they spotted a lowly commoner enjoying themselves.

The King of Marley, William Tybur, sat at the podium’s centre. He was only older than Historia by a year, and yet he had caused much upheaval since his ascension to the throne. For a century House Reiss and House Tybur had been allies, their kingdoms allies. But William had declared the Reiss domain his. He had already conquered most of the continent, absorbing Quinta and Orvud and most recently, Liberio. They were port cities, responsible for bringing imports into the country. By controlling them, the Tybur House controlled the whole country. His proposal to include Eldia underneath his Marley umbrella would impose hefty taxes on the citizens, less rights for the commoners. He hated the poor. He executed the poor.

When William had sent his first letter of request, Ymir had been the one to travel down to Liberio to personally reject the proposal on behalf of the Queen. In return she had almost been killed, kept captive for a month. Historia didn’t know if William had realized how much Ymir meant to her, but that had been the worst month of her entire life. If Historia hadn’t sent her trusted guard out in the dead of night to break Ymir out, she was sure that Ymir would have returned to her nailed to a cross. Or worse, cut up into little pieces.

The sun beat down on Historia’s body as she stepped through the rusted gates and onto the sand of the arena. Just thinking about what King Tybur had done made her blood boil even hotter than the damn sun. She was armoured tightly, but not so much that there was no ease of movement. Eldia was far more advanced in its technology, and thanks to her father, in its military too. Historia nodded at the guard at the gate, and the woman pulled the massive gate shut. When it slammed closed, a hush fell across the arena. It was odd for them to see her down there, this tiny figure, surrounded by so much space.

Historia straightened her back and walked into the centre of the arena. She caught Tybur watching her. His long blonde hair rested on his shoulders. He was paler than even Historia—clearly pampered. Various servers ascended into the podium to offer the best wine and food that Eldia had to offer—dried meats, cheese, fruit and freshly baked bread. Historia watched as Tybur and his family took of the food and wine and gorged themselves. Typical, she thought. There she was, the Queen, sweating like a swine atop the scorching sand, and Tybur was happily sitting in the shade, eating and drinking and ready to enjoy the fight.

Oh, he would.

“People of Eldia,” a man’s voice boomed over the arena. Any lingering chatter died away. “We welcome you all here today in the Titan’s Arena, to witness today a formal battle between our Queen Reiss, and their King Tybur.” The announcer stood on a separate podium, where his deep voice could echo easily across the arena. “Fighting on behalf of the Eldian Kingdom, is Queen Historia Reiss herself. And fighting on behalf of King Tybur, are two of his best warriors.”

A roar of outrage rang through the crowds, but Historia was not surprised. She had known the stakes. Tybur had refused anything else. Two of his best warriors against Historia, or he would take his army and burn Eldia to the ground. She would not let that happen.

At the opposite end of the arena the gate swung open and two huge, muscled men stepped out. They were bare chested, wearing only canvas loin cloths,  leather and cloth wraps at their arms and wrists, leather belts with strengthened metal plates meant to protect their waists, leg padding below their greaves, metal shoulder guards and finally, simple sandals. They each carried with them a sword and a shield. Historia had opted for no shield.

“Marcus, known as the defeater of beasts, said to have killed a lion with his bare hands,” the announcer continued, “and Crixus, the Burner.”

The crowd roared. People from Marley were cheering while people of Eldia were booing. Historia lifted a single hand, and her people went silent. Marley’s people continued to whoop and insult.

“The fate of the kingdom will be judged upon the survivor of the game!” the announcer cried. “Let the fight begin!”

XxX

The arena was like a single being, a monster that breathed and convulsed, aroused by its own perversion. Ymir pushed her way through the mass of people, uncaring at the shouts she got in return. Naturally, when they noticed her royal Reiss armour, they shut up pretty quickly. Ymir wasn’t cruel. Some thought she was. Rumours always spread that if someone so much as breathed oddly in her direction, she would slice their head clean off. It was absurd. Ymir had spread the rumour herself.

No. Her expression was fierce, though. People mostly parted on their own, or were shoved if they didn’t. Ymir avoided the royal podium, where Tybur and his family were seated. Just knowing that he was near made Ymir itch with bloodlust. Historia had requested that she do nothing but watch, and so she would do. It infuriated her, though. He was so close, so near. She could lop his head off with just a flick of her wrist.

Ymir reached the railing and clasped the cold metal with her trembling hands. When Historia stepped out, Ymir’s heart gave a dull throb in her chest. It pained her immensely to watch her tiny lover pad over the sand, watched by thousands. The people of Marley were making crude comments all around her, tempting Ymir to make the rumours a thing of fact, but she clenched her hands and her teeth and kept her eyes on nothing but Historia.

“Let the fight begin!”

Ymir’s heart shot into her throat. How was Historia going to fight two men so much larger and stronger than her? Ymir could imagine all the various painful ways her lover could die. She knew Tybur was cruel. She had been tortured by his hand. He had most likely told his warriors to make the fight last, draw it out. Make Historia suffer. When Ymir glanced upwards at the Tyburs, she noted with disgust that the King was slurping down as much wine as he could, his face split by a wide, sadistic grin.

 _Please win this,_ Ymir thought desperately as the two men converged on Historia. _Please don’t leave me._

The fighting truly began. The men didn’t even mask their intent. They swung their swords savagely, together, forcing Historia to dodge one and parry the other. The clang of their swords clashing rang through the air, making people shout in excitement.

“Cut the bitch down!”

“Kill the Queen!”

“Destroy them, Your Majesty!”

“Show them the might of House Reiss!”

“Eat the cunt for lunch!”

Ymir ground her teeth together so hard that her jaw ached. Her muscles were stiff and twitching and her every cell was burning with anger. She was going to find these people that spoke ill of her Queen, and she was going to make them swallow their own cocks.

Ymir forced herself to watch, forced her fists to remain closed around the railing. She wanted to hop down and stick her sword in a throat, a meaty thigh. But she couldn’t. If she did, she would discredit Historia. She would show that she had no faith in her Queen’s fighting ability. Historia would look weak in front of everyone. And a war would break out. Tybur would stand and leave, and on the morrow he would return with his entire army to burn their homes and steal their land.

Ymir inhaled deeply, exhaled through her nose. She could do this. Historia could do this.

But oh, it was so painful to watch.

XxX

Historia’s muscles burned. As expected, the men were made of pure, raw strength. Sweat glistened off of their bronze bodies, wetting the sand beneath them. They slashed as a pair, never giving her a moment to gather herself. It took all of her concentration to track where the blades would fall, how to evade or block. Each time her sword clanged with theirs, the vibrations ran up her arm down to her toes.

Historia Reiss was not weak.

She wore pretty dresses and wore dainty makeup, but beneath all of that were scars and packs of muscle. Her body was small, but she was strong. She had trained herself like steel. She was concrete, solid, firm. They would not break her, she would break them.

Historia was patient. She parried each swipe well, dodged the second sword, a hand, a leg. They were playing dirty, with no honour. She would expect nothing more of Tybur’s dogs. That’s all they were, but today she would teach them a lesson. She would make them her bitch.

Historia took many steps back, almost running, avoiding a wide sweep of the sword by Marcus. His grunt of surprise made excitement shoot through her veins. Crixus came at her from the side. He was wide open, mocking her. They were not treating this as a serious fight, but as a game with a little girl. They were underestimating her. Good.

As much as she wanted to make a spectacle out of this, Historia was running out of time. She needed to act quickly, or all would fail.

“You’re small for a queen,” Crixus grunted after missing a grab. “I bet you fuck well.”

Historia ignored the wet sand between her toes, digging into her skin. “I will have your tongue for that,” she snarled.

“Queeny thinks she scares us,” Marcus laughed. He lashed out suddenly, successfully digging the tip of his sword into Historia’s hip, right where her armour connected. It was a slight gap in metal. She was still protected by mesh, but her skin still stung and she could feel the hot flush of blood. “We were told we can fuck you before we kill you,” Marcus leered.

Historia puffed out a breath. God, she was so hot. The sun was excruciating and her entire body was like a furnace. “I’d rather have a hot spike pushed through my belly.”

The two of them laughed. “I think our cocks count.”

She felt disgusted by them. How were they Tybur’s best warriors? They were repulsive.

Marcus and Crixus switched positions, moving to her sides, stepping carefully. They twirled their swords between their hands like this was a circus act. Historia planted her feet carefully, watching them, keeping an eye on their footing, their posture. She felt alive. More alive than anything. Maybe it wasn’t becoming of a Queen to love battle so much. No one really knew this about her.

Not even Ymir.

Historia hated the long meetings, the paperwork, the delegating. She wanted to be on the battlefield, with a sword in her hand and sweat on her skin. She wanted the exertion and the exhilaration of near death. It aroused her like no other. It fired her up. A deep, liquid heat pooled in her belly and she distracted herself for a second to seek out a familiar face in the crowd. She found her, standing rigidly, face pulled tight in anger. God, Ymir was such a sight to behold. Historia watched the warriors in her peripheral vision. When they began to move, a frightened cry sounded from the royal podium, and Historia knew it was time.

She waited until the swords were ready to pierce her, and then she twisted and wrapped her arms around each blade. She flexed her biceps, used the surprise of the moment, and wrenched the swords free. Marcus and Crixus roared in surprise, but before they could even respond Historia had their swords. She put the Founder between her teeth, licked the cold edge and tasted blood. The two men were looking at her with bewilderment.

Historia went low and shot forward. She ducked Marcus’s hands and went for Crixus, sending his blade through his throat. Blood bubbled out from his mouth and he dropped to his knees, gargling. Crixus managed to grab her then and lifted her up into his arms. He started squeezing down on her ribs, and she grunted in pain, but felt no fear. She dropped the sword from her hand and smashed her head into his. His nose crunched and his grip slackened, allowing Historia to slip out. When she landed on her feet, she cut his legs off like butter and watched as he fell, screaming. She jumped atop him, covered his face with her hand. He started struggling, scratching at her arms, her face, but she held him down. She had the strength to hold him down.

Historia sent her sword right through his brain. Blood immediately started seeping out onto the sand. The crowd had gone deathly silent then. Historia stood with Founder and wiped it off on Crixus’s loincloth. She started approaching the edge of the arena. At the royal podium, people were starting to shout.

“Mother!”

“Sister!”

“Someone, get help, quickly! He collapsed!”

No one made a move, said a word. The podium was a mess of chaos—shock, fear and dropping bodies. William had stood and was leaning over the railing, eyes wide, mouth agape.

“Enjoy your wine, Your Highness?” Historia called out. She could feel blood and sweat dripping off her face. “The cheese? The meat?”

Tybur swallowed. “What did you do?” he shouted. “What the fuck did you do?”

Historia sheathed her sword. “I have poisoned you,” she intoned simply. Behind him, more of his house was falling. They were convulsing, foaming at the mouth. Only the children were untouched, standing around terrified, not knowing what to do. With a simple wave Historia’s guards stormed the arena and removed the children safely. The mothers and fathers were dying, and couldn’t stop them.

“We will look after the children,” Historia said, smiling sweetly. “After all, I did wipe out your house.”

Tybur bent over and vomited, but it was all blood. He looked blue, his lips turning purple. “You can’t do this!” he choked out. “This… I will send my army… I will…”

“You will be dead,” Historia corrected. “You have terrorized the people enough.”

A woman stepped up beside him, shoulders set, face firm. “Your time is up, brother,” she said. Unlike William, her hair was cut short and her features were more masculine. She placed a hand on his shoulder, almost as though she was going to comfort him, but instead she shoved him off the podium.

William released a shrill scream. Historia felt no enjoyment in this. She hated that the people were seeing this side of her, the cruel side. But she had to do it. For her people, for his people.

“You can’t…” William wheezed, scraping his nails through the sand. “You can’t!”

Historia felt pity for him then. “William Tybur, I, Queen Historia Reiss of House Reiss, sentence you to death by the will of my house and your own. In your place, Serene Tybur will ascend the throne. She will be my aid and my partner. Our kingdoms will not dominate each other, but remain allies. Do you have anything you wish to say?”

He was choking on his blood, on his breath. His eyes were leaking blood, his ears. It must have been painful. For the others, Historia had used a quick poison. But for him, she had made sure to use one that would hurt the most. Maybe it was wicked of her. Maybe she had learnt too much from her father. But no one kept Ymir hostage and hurt her, no one threatened the innocent lives of Eldia, of the continent, and got away with it. This was Historia’s anger. This was her wrath.

“You… can’t…” Tybur croaked one more time, and then his hand fell into the sand, kicking up a cloud of dust, and his chest went still. Historia’s shoulders dropped slightly and she looked up at Serene. Serene gave her a nod. This must have been painful for her too, but she had been a great help. Historia and she had been friends growing up when their parents had met for official business. Serene shared Historia’s political morals, and so she had never approved of the way her brother ruled. They had made an official contract that stated that Serene would do what her brother had not—bring prosperity to their kingdom, to Marley, and ergo the continent.

Historia turned her attention to the people. “As of today, no city is bound to Marley! Marley its own power and exerts no control over any other city or town. You are free from tyranny. Return to your homes, rejoice! If you wish to move against me, remember what I did to the Tybur household, and know I will surely do to you. No one threatens Eldia.” She took a breath. “ _No one!_ ” she shouted.

The people went mad with joy, hollering and shouting and throwing their arms up. Many simply stood and left, their faces pale and drawn, but most remained to rejoice. The crowd started to spill out of the arena, and Historia watched, feeling lighter than ever, until the gate whined open and a guard approached.

“You’re bleeding, Your Majesty,” Nanaba said softly. “Please, let us tend to you.”

Historia gave her a beautiful smile. “Thank you, Nanaba.” She made to walk, but her legs wobbled and Nanaba caught her. “Don’t carry me,” Historia said quickly, stopping her. “Support me.”

Nanaba gave a slight nod and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. They walked slowly into the bowels of the arena. The passage was dark and warm, but Historia felt free. Each step sent fire through her wound, the one at her hip, and she was probably bleeding through her under clothing, but none of that really mattered.

“Nanaba,” Historia whispered. The guard’s blue eyes met her own. “What do you think about becoming the captain of my guard?”

First, confusion. Nanaba’s eyes widened and then her brows furrowed. “I would be most honoured, Your Majesty. But Ymir—”

“Is to be my wife,” Historia interrupted. She gave a sly grin when Nanaba stopped their walk completely. “Pick your jaw up off the floor,” she laughed, tapping Nanaba’s cheek with her hand. “You all knew we were together.”

Nanaba closed her mouth. “C-congratulations!”

“Historia!”

Both their heads shot up at the desperate cry. Ymir appeared then, rushing down the passage. When she spotted them she smiled and broke out into a full run.

“Her Majesty is injured,” Nanaba said quickly just as Ymir reached them. “Be careful.”

Historia let go of Nanaba and stumbled forward into Ymir’s waiting arms. She carefully lifted Historia into her arms, and despite Historia’s earlier worry, she didn’t tell Ymir to put her down. Her wound was starting to ache badly. She needed to have it cleaned and stitched immediately.

“You were exceptional,” Ymir breathed against her ear. They were walking again, Nanaba right at their side.

Historia chuckled. “Did you really have so little faith in me?”

Ymir pressed a kiss to her damp forehead. “It was them I lacked faith in. But you blow me away. I had no clue you were so savage.”

Historia buried her face against Ymir’s throat. She was achingly tired. “I need my wound cleaned, and afterwards a long bath.” She ran her fingertips along Ymir’s jaw. “Shall you join me, my bride?”

She could hear Ymir’s swallow. Beside them Nanaba snorted softly, so Ymir turned to her. “Do you find amusement in this?” Ymir growled at her.

Nanaba snorted again. “Not at all, Your Grace.”

“Your—?” Ymir made a choking noise. Perhaps she had never considered that marrying the Queen meant that she too became royalty. Nanaba laughed softly and Historia joined in. The sound of their footsteps bounced around in the stone passageway.

Historia enjoyed the rhythm of Ymir’s walk, and tightened her arms around her neck.

XxX

The day they married, it was warm but not overbearingly so. It happened at the castle, with people of all sorts allowed onto palace grounds for the special day. Ever since Serene had taken power, the economy of the continent had grown. The poor were given jobs and food. Education was freely given, and those who were hurt under William’s rule were handsomely compensated. Trade and relations between Eldia and Marley had never been better, not even during the 100 year alliance. Serene was proving herself to be the perfect Queen for Marley.

Ymir was in the courtyard, wearing her formal military uniform even though she was no longer in the guard, but the wife to the Queen. She looked exquisitely dashing, especially when Historia noticed that she was playing with the children from Historia’s orphanage.

A young girl hung around Ymir’s neck and various children held onto her legs and arms. Ymir was pretending to be a monster, groaning and growling and stomping around. It was so unbecoming of the new Queen, but Historia thought it was adorable. She leaned against the Reiss statue and crossed her arms over her chest, smiling.

“Me next, ‘Mir!” a little boy yelled. “Me next!”

The girl around Ymir’s neck hopped down, but Ymir was tired. She dropped down onto her backside and the children all scuttled into her lap. “You guys do realize I’m your Queen now, right?”

They all giggled. “You’re still ‘Mir!” they said.

“Yeah!” another grinned. “Just ‘Mir!”

By the bright grin on her face, Historia could tell that nothing pleased Ymir more. She was not born for royalty, nor did she care for it. She would be difficult when it came to the formalities, but that was okay.

Ymir finally noticed Historia staring and she quickly scrambled onto her feet.

“At ease,” Historia joked, smiling. Ymir reached out and took her hand, drawing her near.

“You can’t order me around anymore,” Ymir told her with a smirk. When they kissed, the children all laughed and squealed and pulled at their clothing.

“I believe I still can,” Historia whispered against her lips. She slipped out of Ymir’s embrace and crouched down to smile at the kids. “How are my babies doing today?”

Their little faces flushed with joy. She held her hands out and they all grabbed hold of her, just to touch her, just to remind themselves that their Queen really cared the way she did.

“I lost a tooth!” one of them said.

Historia gave his chubby cheek a peck. “You’re growing up so fast,” she told him.

He beamed. “When I grow up, I wanna be a Queen’s guard like ‘Mir! So I can protect you!”

She ruffled his hair and laughed with them, then stood and took Ymir’s hand. The children ran off to play at the fountain and bushes. Historia’s main priority was always the orphanage, one giant organization that she personally funded and watched over. The children were cared for, educated, and loved.

“They love you so much,” Historia told her softly. “You’d make a great parent.”

Ymir scoffed. “Me? I doubt it.”

“Why? You’re gentle. You care more than anyone. Any child would be happy to call you mother.”

They were walking towards the back of the castle, away from the music and the chatter. Ymir pulled her to a stop, embraced her. “Like our child?” she asked softly.

Historia smiled up at her. “Do you wish to have children with me?”

Ymir seemed to seriously consider the question. “Once, I might not have. But now, yes. I do.”

“Well,” Historia said, pressing a kiss to Ymir’s hand. “We’ve finally married. Why not take the next step?”

Historia’s heart skipped a beat at the look of sudden awe on Ymir’s face. Instead of saying anything, Ymir kissed her. It was a sweet kiss filled with love and promise. When they pulled apart, they clasped hands and smiled.

“We can try whenever you want. Or adopt.”

Historia caressed Ymir’s face. “I have never been so happy, as I am with you.”

Ymir’s smile was gentle. She pressed a closed fist to her heart. “And I you, my Queen.”

They kissed again, and the sun set. Though the warmth of the sun disappeared beyond the horizon, the warmth in their hearts remained. And it would, with their legacy, forever.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> follow the great lesly-oh:
> 
> https://lesly-oh.deviantart.com/  
> http://lesly-oh.tumblr.com/
> 
> and if you want follow me on tumblr at danilovesanimenel


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